Uptown Girl
by dhawthorne
Summary: 'You ought to be a detective, Mr. Holmes,' she quips. He laughs. 'That's the goal. I'm in the Police Academy. I just drive a cab to make up tuition.' Mike Logan picks up an interesting fare late one night on the Upper East Side.


A/N: This fic was inspired by one I read at Apocrypha a long time ago. I wanted to do my take on this possible scenario! This is part of my Private Lives series but also works as a standalone.

It's been a hell of a long day but he still needs to make up the rest of his tuition tonight-the check's due in two days. He also has a midterm for his police psych class in three days and he really needs to study, but that's not gonna matter if he can't pay next semester's tuition at the Academy.

His last fare was a rich couple finishing up dinner downtown wanting to be dropped off at their Gracie Square apartment. They'd tipped him the fare, which means he only needs one more decent trip before turning in the cab for the night. Making up his mind, he heads over to Fifth, but just as he passes Dorrian's he sees a stunningly pretty girl holding onto her friend's arm, trying to stand up straight as she giggles and waves for a cab. He pulls over immediately, cutting off another cab, ignoring the cabbie's angry honking.

'Can I help you ladies?' he asks, grinning, suppressing a laugh as the first one leans down to talk to him. Close up, she's even prettier-a couple years younger than him, maybe, with large grey eyes and long auburn hair that falls forward as she ducks her head to talk to him. She's wearing one of those bright patterned shift dresses her sort wears in the summer, and she's grinning at him.

'I know it's not far,' she confides, 'but could you take me home? I'm a little drunk.'

He does laugh at that. 'Sure thing.'

She smiles in relief. 'Oh, thank you!'

Turning back to her friend, she hugs her goodbye, promising to call her soon, and her friend heads back to the bar as she opens the back door and slides in.

'So where are we headed tonight?' he asks, turning to look at her. She sends him a warm smile.

'76th and Park, please,' she tells him, shifting to lean back against her seat.

'Very nice,' he tells her. 'Live with your parents?'

'Is it that obvious?' she asks, raising an eyebrow.

He shoots her a grin in the mirror. 'Not really. You could've been headed to your dorm, but I don't think that-hmm, I'd say Barnard-has dorms on Park Avenue.'

'How did you know I go to Barnard?' she asks, surprised and a little disconcerted.

'Well, you're definitely not the NYU type,' he says, 'it's not really a preppy scene. And if your parents live on Park Avenue they're not gonna send you to City College. So-Barnard.'

The tension in her shoulders eases. 'You ought to be a detective, Mr. Holmes,' she quips.

He laughs. 'That's the goal. I'm in the Police Academy. I just drive a cab to make up tuition.'

She leans forward, interest piqued. 'That's fascinating. So, d'you want to be a detective, or-?'

'Yeah,' he says. 'Hopefully a homicide detective.'

'How did you decide on that as a career?' she asks.

'My dad's a cop. Walked a beat since he was eighteen. I want to do that, but something else too. I've always liked puzzles,' he admits suddenly, wanting to confide in this girl. 'I'm good at them. And police cases-they're like puzzles. You study them hard enough and you can figure it out.' He stops for a moment, embarrassed at sharing so much, but she still looks fascinated. 'What are you studying?'

She smiles. 'Well, right now I'm studying Sociology, but I've been thinking about switching to Psychology. I know what you mean about puzzles-if you know enough about the human mind you can figure out why people do what they do. I thought Sociology would be more like that, and it is in a broad sense, but Psychology… I could help people, you know. And I want to do that.'

He looks at her in the mirror. She's blushing now, looking down at her lap.

'I don't really talk too much,' she admits. 'I like to listen, but I think I'm a little drunk.'

'That's okay,' he says. 'I'm impressed.'

She meets his eyes in the mirror. 'Impressed with what?'

'Well, you obviously grew up not lackin' for much,' he begins. 'But it's nice that you want to give back. I guess I don't see that a lot.'

'You want to help people too,' she reminds him.

'Yeah, but I have a more selfish reason,' he admits. 'I just-I've gotta get out of the life I have. I've gotta do somethin', y'know?' He snaps his mouth shut when he realizes what he's said. Is he drunk or what? Well, obviously not, he hasn't had anything to drink tonight, but-why the hell is he tellin' all his secrets to this ritzy brunette in the back? He chances a glance at her and sees, instead of the pity he expects from someone like her, understanding.

'I know what you mean,' she admits quietly. 'My parents… they expect so much. That I have a good life. They're less focused on the job and more on making sure I live up to their expectations. I couldn't care less about finding a husband… not that they're focused on that, necessarily, but it's their expectation that I'll find someone suitable. I want to work. I want to figure things out myself, and live in Manhattan, and while I want to get married and have children someday I want to have a good career and help people and do things my own way.' She comes to a halt abruptly, too, and meets his eyes in the mirror. Something passes between them but it vanishes when he turns onto to her block.

'I'm here on the corner,' she says, pointing. He nods and pulls up in front of her building. He parks the car, not wanting to stop the conversation yet, and turns off the meter.

'Thank you for the ride,' she says, after a few moments of silence. She's rummaged through her purse and hands him some cash. Her fingertips brush his hand for a moment and a spark passes between them. He knows she feels it too-her eyes go wide before she takes a deep breath and says, 'I appreciate it.'

He nods. 'Any time. I'm Mike, by the way.'

She smiles. 'I'm Liz.'

'Can I walk you to your door?' he asks, and her smile widens.

'I'd like that.'

He grins, turns off the car, and gets out of the cab. She's struggling with her purse and he has the chance to open the door and help her out of the car. Her hand feels warm and somehow right in his, he thinks, as he leads her to the door. The doorman nods his head as they approach the awning, greeting her with a polite 'Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.' They stop just outside the front door.

'Thank you, Mike,' she says, and they look into each other's eyes for a moment. If this was a date-and in the twenty minutes they've spent together he's been more interested in her than he has been for anyone for a long time-he'd bend to kiss her right now. But it's not a date, and he wouldn't take advantage of her, especially not in front of her doorman. She must hear his thoughts because a flush rises in her cheeks and she stands on her toes, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before opening the heavy glass doors and disappearing inside.

He stays there for a few moments more before he comes back to himself. Shaking his head, he heads back to his cab. Too bad he's never gonna see her again.


End file.
